Pleiades
by Enchantable
Summary: The Enterprise embarks on a galactic chase to take back Vulcan artifacts from smugglers. What started as a simple mission turns into anything but, not helped by the fact the sexual tension in the bridge might kill them long before their enemies do.
1. Chapter 1

Logic.

It was something the Vulcans lived by. Logic was simple, it was a path in the chaos. Logic made sense, logic was sense. It would have been logical to go to the Vulcan colony. Half breed or no he was a part of the race. Even if his older self was there, it was a different world now. It would have been equally logical to have asked to Captain a different ship. Starfleet needed them after the devastating attack, needed them badly enough to overlook his emotional moment on the Enterprise. But he had refused. He had decided against all things logical, all things that made sense and that was how he found himself as he was now.

Standing in front of his quarters, half afraid to go inside.

Vulcans felt emotion. It was an unfortunate burden of all beings with a conscience. In the past few days he had felt so acutely human, so many times. It was a troubling thing. Aside from a few moments scattered through the years of his life he had rarely been an issue--a disability as the Science Academy had called it. That moment in grade school when he had lost control and beat his classmate up, a handful of other instances hardly worth note, with one huge exception. He felt emotions but he kept locked down, pushed to the bottom instead of lingering on the surface. Emotions were troublesome things when they ruled a person. Foolish decisions could be made, like beaming onto the surface of a dying planet.

Like allowing a relationship with a student.

Not unheard of in the Academy but not something he would have thought for himself. He was engaged, or he had been before she died, but the woman had never been happy about marrying the 'half breed'. Still the relationship was logical. They were of proper breeding age and social class, their offspring would have less human blood running through them than he did. Stigma would only follow a generation or so, human blood would be bred out and forgotten save for the teasings of school children, something not uncommon for any race at that age. But then she had shown up in his class.

It was her hair really that had caught his eye. Women kept their hair short or veiled themselves on Vulcan. He had seen women's hair in his class before, the women in the Academy seemed to use every tool at their disposal to distinguish themselves from one another But she, she caught his eye because at first glance it seemed that she had barely any hair at all. Pulled back sharply, she sat ram rod strait and it was not until she bent over that that wave of ebony slipped across her shoulders. The measures she took with her appearance were tame compared to some of the others. Bright earrings and a simple sweep of ebony across the lid of her eye. If she did other things it escaped his gaze. Everything about her spoke of nature, of the sunny, warm plains his mother had told him stories about as a child despite his insistence that such a thing was un-necessary.

His fingers reached for the keypad at the sound of footfalls. Whatever he was feeling it would not do to allow the rest of the crew to see him in such a state. He had beaten and marooned the Captain, he would have to work hard enough to escape that without the added burden of being seen as a coward. Keying in his code he stepped into the room and heard the door hiss behind him as it closed. His room was generic, sterile almost. There was nothing to tell of the man who stood in the doors. Any crew member could have lived there. He knew the others had decorated their rooms. He had seen the bags they took on the ship. Odd paper rolls had been in Jim's and Sulu's had been filled with pieces of silver waiting to be sharpened. His were bare and sparse. Vulcans were practical and his assignment had been rushed. There had been no guarantee that the Enterprise would become his home. Now that it was, it seemed odd that he would live in a place that held no trace of the person who inhabited it, save for the physical being himself.

The knock on the door was hardly gentle but, then again, he knew there was little about Nyota Uhura that was. He was surprised at how difficult it was to swallow, as if someone had placed a block in his throat. Forcing the sensation aside he turned to the door and pressed the keys to allow it to open to admit her. The world had gone mad but she looked the same. Same warm, dark skin, same high ponytail, same everything. She smiled up at him and he read the relief and happiness in her eyes. Like he had, she thought he would not be returning to the ship. In fact, he had come so abruptly that he had no time to send word ahead before his feet touched the Bridge. Immediately she wrapped her arms around him, her face fitting into the juncture of his shoulder and neck. His hands were slow to come around her waist but faster than they usually were.

"I didn't think you were coming back," she breathed, her voice still heavy with relief.

Spock made no confirmation of the fact, seeming to be merely content to hold her against him. Uhura didn't mind, how could she when he was there? When the ship had taken off she had been so sure that he was going to Vulcan. She told herself that it was for the best. He needed to be with his people--or one of them anyway. There were other men, there were _always_ other men. But her heart had been in despair. There were other men, sure, but none of them could seamlessly argue with her in four different languages without skipping a beat. There were other men but none of them would be able to make her heart pound with a twist of lip that could hardly be called a smile. Other men would not make her want to spend hours staring into the eyes, wondering if she could separate every emotion hidden there or if it would be like trying to pick through grains of sand or drops of the ocean.

Other men wouldn't be Spock.

But he had stepped on the Bridge and become First Officer within moments of arriving--not that anyone had been terribly surprised. Only men like them would be able to be at each other's throats one moment and friends the next. Spock hadn't spoken to any of them since the ship docked and they returned to the Starfleet Academy. None of them had quite known what to say either. Kirk had said something about him needing time, his eyes shining as if he knew some of the Vulcan's pain. The world had been so terribly chaotic that it was easy to get lost in it. Funerals, meetings, promotions--it was a whirlwind Uhura wished would let her breath for one moment. But now they were in space again, the crew of the Enterprise and he was there as well. He still smelled the same, he felt the same, in a world that still seemed to be upside down it was comforting enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"I thought you were going to be on Vulcan," she said finally drawing back far enough to look into his eyes.

"A Vulcan Colony is being established," he said, "but my presence is needed here."

"Yes," she said with a smile, "it is."

They were silent for a moment. It was something that she had become accustom to when dealing with the Vulcan and in her work as well. After all, in order to understand one had to listen as much as they spoke. It was difficult for her to master that. She far preferred the speaking part of her job as a communications officer. Silence with the promise of speech. Unfortunately this silence felt different, almost tense. She felt Spock's fingers tighten fractionally against her spine and while his eyes seemed serene she could feel his agitation. Uhura had been with enough men to know what that was, what the barest look in his eyes was. She understood, truly she did. So much had happened, the world was so incredibly chaotic, how could he possibly have time for a girlfriend? If she was even that, they had not really defined their relationship before. Now it seemed that they would not have a chance.

His lips parted, explanations ready to be given but Uhura shook her head.

"No, um, its okay," she smiled, stepping back. His hand fell to his sides as easily as if she had never been in his arms, "I'm glad you're back," she looked behind her, "I'll--I'll see you on the bridge," she said with a painful smile before she turned and walked out.

Spock stared at the door. He knew his emotions had not been written on her face but she had seen it clear as day. He did not want to be without her but he knew that the times ahead would be troubling and that if she occupied his thoughts it would have a negative effect on all involved. Surely simple glances and interactions on the Bridge would not affect him. He could be her friend, her comrade, he could be everything but the thing he found himself wishing he could be for her. Irritably he crushed the thought. Wishes and dreams were for the very young and Spock, at that moment, had never felt older.

Turning to the bag in which he had his few possessions, Spock set about unpacking.

**

* * *

**

"I hope that's not my face you're picturing."

With a final vicious punch Uhura turned to see James Kirk standing there, a grin on his lips. He was still flirting with her--not that she was any different from the females on the crew--as if she was not dating Spock. With a lurch she remembered that she was not, in fact. Not anymore anyway. Furiously she turned to the bag, focusing on the anger instead of the ache in her heart as she resumed hitting the thing. Kirk raised an eyebrow. Usually she would have said yes, it was his face for one hand while her other was pummeling somewhere decidedly lower on his body. But all she did was hit the punching bag. Though by no means advanced combat, all officers learned basic self defense. However it appeared defense was the last thing on her mind.

That could only mean Spock had done something stupid.

Torn between amusement and frustration, Kirk walked forward to where she was standing hitting the thing.

"What'd Spock do?" he asked.

"What makes you think he's got anything to do with this?" Uhura demanded looking at him, her chest heaving. Kirk shrugged as her ebony lined eyes tore from him and returned to the punching bag.

"Because only he would be stupid enough to piss you off," Kirk said. Uhura's fist slammed into the bag, the motion knocking it into him. Kirk braced himself for the impact of the bag before it came back to her and she resumed hitting it, "what'd he do, dump you?" he asked.

"That's not any of your business," she spat.

"Not any of my business, _Captain_," he said with a grin, knowing it'd make her even more angry, "and of course it is. Inter-personelle relationships are part of the duties of the Captain under Article--"

"I know the code," she snarled at him. loathing how he knew it well enough to use it when he needed too and ignore it when it suited him, "until there's a problem this is none of your business, _Captain_."

Deciding she was hopeless, Kirk turned and walked from the room. There was another player in this equation but he, at least, would only knock him unconscious with that far too handy attack of his. Turning to a computer he gave his inquiry as to the location of Spock and was given confirmation the half breed Vulcan was in his room. Mentally praying he wasn't sulking, he told the computer to put the sickbay on alert and headed in that general direction. The funny thing about dealing with Spock was that while he denied having any 'human' feelings or emotions or anything of the sort what he really did was disregard them. Ignoring a bomb was not the same as disabling it. Keeping that thought in mind, Kirk arrived at the doors just as Spock was coming out of them.

"Did you need something Captain?" he asked, his voice cool and polite.

"Yeah, uh, walk with me," he said. Spock gave the barest incline of his head, as much consent as Kirk would get and the two men walked down the hallway, "so I ran into Uhura," he said, "I'm pretty sure she's about ten seconds from tattooing your face onto a punching bag."

"How Lieutenant Uhura takes out her frustration is not my concern," he replied smoothly.

"Yeah, except her frustration is _you_," Kirk said, "you broke up with her."

"I was not aware that the Captain was to be involved in the personal decisions of everyone in this crew," he said, his voice not wavering.

"Article--"

"You cannot pick and choose when to use the code, Captain or it looses its effectiveness," Spock replied, "the code also states that a Captain's involvement is only necessary when the crew has been emotionally compromised and as none of us have been, your involvement is not required."

It was only through supreme force of will--and love for his limbs--that Kirk didn't remind Spock what happened the last time he had been emotionally compromised. The half Vulcan turned his head to look at Kirk, plainly waiting for him to elaborate on the subject of his romantic relationship. Kirk said nothing.

"If that is all Captain--"

"I thought you were over this whole 'I don't fell' thing," he said, "you could at least look upset."

"It is the burden of all beings who are capable of feeling to feel," Spock said facing him, "as for your feelings for Lieutenant Uhura, they are none of my concern and you may pursue her as you wish."

Aside from the rather horrifying thought of being a rebound for Spock, Kirk knew there was another thing in the way.

"Yeah my feelings are none of your concern but her feelings for you should be your concern. She's in love with you and you're just going to what? Wait until you're both in the void or injured to say anything?!"

The moment he shouted the words Kirk realized his misstep. Spock's already ramrod strait posture seemed to straiten even more. His cold eyes seemed to harden and for a moment Kirk saw them narrow. He hadn't meant to bring up Spock's mother, the words had just spilled out of his mouth. The fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to his mother was something Spock was extremely sensitive about. Especially because it seemed like while Spock was doing everything in his power to embrace his Vulcan side, he hadn't exactly embraced the human side. Once she was dead he felt that that had been like saying his mother's culture was worthless--like she was worthless. Kirk was usually alright with keeping his mouth shut about that. But he had just made a huge misstep. While Spock's jaw didn't move, he saw his fingers move, just slightly. For a moment Kirk wondered if he should have asked for a gurney to follow him.

Without a word the half Vulcan turned on his heel an walked away.

"Spock--"

"Captain!" muttering curses Kirk turned to see Scotty running up to him, computer in his hand, "Captain I need to speak to you, right now!"

Kirk turned to the Engineer who looked at Spock's retreating form.

"What's got his ears in a twist?" he asked. Kirk glared, "alright alright, well there's a slight problem with the water system--"

Kirk turned his attention to the problem, vowing that the next time he was taking a Vulcan as a crew member he was going to make sure someone had already taught him how to be emotional.

Because he was never going to go do this again.

* * *

**I just saw the movie and I loved the crew relationships, especially Uhura and Spock. **

**Let me know if I should keep going or not (aka please review!)**


	2. Chapter 2

"He's like a puppy."

Leonard McCoy wondered if somewhere out in the universe his bitch of an ex wife wasn't laughing. Taking the whole damn planet wasn't enough, _no_ she had to have a hand in ensuring he found himself constantly in the company of the bravest, craziest, most _frustrating_ man he had ever met. He turned to the Captain who was sitting on an unoccupied sick bay bed, looking far more like a child coming for his first vaccines than the Captain of a ship. Kirk turned his head to McCoy who continued his inventory, wondering if he should inject him with a vaccine to get his tongue to go numb so he'd stop talking.

"I'm not talking about the cute, wide eyed puppies. I'm talking about the nightmare puppies, the ones who you can't train until _they're_ ready to be trained. I mean, how hard is it to admit when you're wrong?"

"I don't know Jim, why don't you tell me?" McCoy demanded glaring at the Captain who, they both knew, had a bit of an inability to admit such a thing, "what happened to no-win scenarios?" he asked moving to organize a series of injections.

"The bastard just _had_ to give me one," he said with a groan, "I bet he's been planning this from the beginning."

"I don't think he planned his love life around teaching you a lesson," McCoy told him.

"Easy for you to say!" the young Captain snapped, "instead of being some un-house trained puppy he's a puppy who wasn't trained in expressing his emotions! No, he just suffers the occasional meltdown," he shoved himself off the table, "i don't want to wake up marooned on some backwater moon because Uhura gets a new boyfriend okay? This time, future-him might not be there to save my ass."

"Don't be stupid" McCoy said, "he marooned you for mutiny. You're Captain now so unless he--" the doctor grinned. Kirk opened his mouth but he beat him to it, "unless he emotionally compromises _you_, then your fine."

"Thanks," Kirk said sarcastically, "that makes me feel so much better. And for the record, he was emotionally compromised first. I just got him to show it."

McCoy smiled brightly.

"Captain?" they turned at the heavily accented voice, already looking towards the communicator panel, "my apologies but new orders have come from Starfleet Command."

"On my way," Kirk said standing up and walking over to the door, "he maroons me, you come rescue me. Got it?"

"Yeah yeah," McCoy muttered turning back to the instruments.

Kirk made his way through the ship towards the bridge to find out what their next mission was. Half of him wished they were deeper in space with their standing orders instead of being errand boys for Command but he forced that thought down. He might have been a new Captain but he knew that he had to be on good behavior, at least for now. He walked into the Bridge. Normally McCoy should have been there but considering new medical supplies came in boxes and had to be unpacked, he was the one doing it. Kirk had a suspicious feeling his friend suffered from more than a fear of flying. Maybe it was just a doctor thing though. The doors opened with a hiss and Kirk stepped onto the bridge, walking over to the chair and sat down, keying in his ID code.

"Alright what we got?"

"The Command wants us to go after a handful of ships carrying suspicious cargo," Chekov said.

"That's _it_?" Kirk questioned, "why do they really want us to go after them?"

"That was it," Chekov said, a note of panic in his eyes, "there was nothing else in the message Captain."

"if I may?"

All eyes turned to Spock. All eyes but Kirk's whose darted between Uhura and Spock. Both were sitting ramrod strait, her eyes offering nothing but respect towards the half breed Vulcan. His were decidedly on Kirk, something which Kirk was rather unhappy about. He didn't want any of the fallout from this--well no more than he was already going to get. He hadn't even realized that the three of them were becoming friends. Only he could pick friends who would turn and start a war with each other. Except, of course, for the fact that they would undoubtably wage it in strange languages and icy silences. Professionalism as a weapon. Kirk had a feeling he was going to lock them in a small space until they sorted this mess out.

Maybe he could go all out and maroon them, Spock at least, on a snowy world and see how _he_ liked it.

"Go ahead."

"It is highly likely that these men are looters who travel interworld and take artifacts from dying races and planets. Given the recentness of the collapse of Vulcan, it is probable that these men are harboring Vulcan artifacts to hide and sell at a later date when their value has increased substantially."

Kirk leaned to the side and looked out at the stars. Spock had, as he tended to have, a very valid point. The likely hood these men were smuggling artifacts from Vulcan was high. If they were going to some kind of home base and had done enough to attract the attention of Command then there was a good chance their operation was high reaching. Not to mention the fact that the artifacts were Vulcan.

Helplessly watching a few thousand shy of six billion people perish while they were unable to do anything had done something to the crew. It was not just that Spock who they all both loved and hated, was a Vulcan or that he had fulfilled the fantasy of many female crew members--and a few males--by beating the tar of Kirk. No, it was more than that. Everyone went to the memorial service for the lost souls, the entire crew was there mourning people they had never known, people they would never know. When the ships began to prepare for the Vulcan colony project, each crew member had done what they could to help. From McCoy helping to organize medical supplies to Sulu assisting in designing agricultural systems. If they had a chance now to reclaim even a few old pieces of someone's house from that planet, they all would do it in a heartbeat.

"Alright lets go after these scum bags," Kirk said.

"Yes Captain," Sulu said beginning to plot a course.

"Chekov alert everyone of our mission," he said. The young man nodded enthusiastically and began the task.

Inwardly Spock breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he thought that Kirk would say 'no', that the smugglers were not worthy of the Enterprise. Immediately he chastised himself for his foolishness. Of course Kirk would demand they go after these artifacts. Spock turned to the controls at his disposal and typed a few commands to check on some routine matter. It was an unfortunate fact that out of the corner of his eye he could see the curve of _her_ leg. For a single, irritated moment he wondered why Command insisted on making the female uniforms so short. Surely the females minded--she shifted slightly, the skirt riding up just fractionally and Spock felt his fingers pause on the computer warmed buttons. She had always been warm, surprisingly so. He knew humans and Vulcans were warm-blooded creatures but she seemed even warmer. Perhaps because her cloths were like a second skin, though it was impossible to imagine a fabric that could compare to her first.

It was not until his fingertips had pressed hard enough into his palms to allow his nails to make a mark that Spock realized he had made fists. Frustration and embarrassment churned through him, though he ensured neither showed on his face as he smoothed out his hand. He continued to focus on the menial task at hand, though it required only a fraction of the attention he was giving. But he had to focus. It would not do to be caught up in selfish thoughts. This time it was a foolish, routine check. Next time it could be some far more important matter.

_You will always have a proud mother, no matter what you choose. _

"Hey Spock."

If he were a less trained man he would have jumped at the hand that was clapped onto his shoulder. As it was the barest trace of annoyance showed in his body language before he turned to Kirk.

"Yes Captain? Was there something you needed?" he asked.

"How are the system checks in Warp?" the Captain asked.

"Adequate," Spock said smoothly.

Kirk nodded, wondering if he should inform the Vulcan that he had made a fist and had been staring at the screen blankly for two minuets. Honestly Kirk didn't think he would have noticed it--in fact he hadn't noticed it. Uhura had. The Communications Officer was turned to her station now, her fingers flying over the keyboard at an un-necessarily fast rate. Kirk had glanced over at her and she had given him a pointed look, her eyes darting to Spock and back to him so fast he was sure he had missed it. Then he looked over at Spock. He could've screamed himself hoarse trying to get the attention of the half Vulcan but it wouldn't have had an effect. It was that or clapping him on the shoulder. The latter seemed to have worked. Instead of looking numb, he looked as though he wanted to slam Kirk's head into the computer screen--of course for a Vulcan, that meant to everyone else he just looked mildly annoyed. Idly Kirk wondered if the Academy shouldn't include classes in how to read the facial nuances of extra terrestrials.

"Commander Spock?" Kirk turned to the communicator, hearing the odd note in McCoy's voice, "can you come down here?"

"Yes, Doctor," Spock said rising smoothly, "Captain," he said, in lieu of a farewell before he turned and walked out of the room.

The medical bay was rather quiet. No-one was hurt or dying, in fact he did not see a single bed occupied. The crew had all received medical clearance to be on the ship which included all the proper vaccines. Dr. McCoy came out of one of the side areas, a PADD in his hand and a bottle of some kind of pill in the other. He took one look at Spock and his eyes narrowed. Spock knew the doctor was prone to fits of annoyance at, what he deemed, his 'lack of sensitivity'. Rather it was his lack of display of such sensitivities but the fact he had marooned Kirk as well did little to inspire a change of opinion. One one occasion he had heard a comparison between himself and the Doctors former wife, someone he was most certain he did not want to be compared too in such a manner.

"Doctor McCoy," Spock said smoothly.

"Look, I get that Vulcans go for a hell of a long time without sleeping under stressful conditions. Starfleet engineered a pill for soldiers that imitates that ability. You know what happens when the effects wear off? They crash. I get the pill's synthetic, your abilities natural and all that bullshit but you haven't slept more than four hours in three _weeks_," the doctor ranted.

"Vulcans are capable of surviving for much longer durations of time with much less sleep."

"Yeah, under times of great stress!" McCoy shot back, "and you're half Vulcan. You've got to sleep."

"If the Doctors thought the matter would affect my ability to perform my duties they would have grounded me,"

"Are you _kidding_ me? Do you have any idea how short staffed we are? Unless you were babbling about moon pies--" Spock look confused, "look take the pills," he said. Spock looked at the pills and then at him, but made no move to take them, "look you take these or I'll inject you with a sedative here in the sick bay."

Spock stared at the doctor. Something told him the doctor was attempting to show kindness or understanding for the shame of the idea of the crew witnessing him being injected with a steroid but Spock couldn't help but feel threatened. The doctor held the pill bottle out to him. Spock knew that if he refused then there was a good chance Kirk would hear about it. The last thing he needed was to give the Captain another excuse to watch him. He knew most of the crew was concerned, but only as it pertained to them. He was a competent crew member, a good leader but if he continued to act in such a way he could get them all seriously hurt. Perhaps he should have gone to the Vulcan Colony after all.

Though he felt like a child taking the pills, Spock could not stomach the thought of that terrible helpless feeling watching people around him die. Even if it was just a crew member or two, he was well aware that the effects to his psyche would be damaging, no matter how he well he controlled them. Relief was plain on McCoy's face for an instant before he smoothed his features out and turned around, going about organizing the lab. Spock felt his fingers tighten around the container as he half considered crushing it. It felt like a weakness accepting it and he had far too many of those already. He turned on his heel and walked out of the medical bay, heading towards his quarters.

McCoy listened to the footsteps of the retreating half Vulcan and wondered what it was about the crew that made them both frustrating and endearing. Perhaps he was just getting old, old and crazy though he was not much older than the rest of them. Shaking his head he set down the PADD moments before he heard footsteps approaching him. He was sure he would never understand how someone could put sass in a walk but, then again, he was sure that for the rest of his life he wouldn't understand women. Especially women like Nyota Uhura who could put up with men like Spock. He turned to face the communications officer who stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips, fixing him with a glare that made his stomach plummet. He tore his eyes away and went back to the PADD.

"Don't ask, can't tell, Patient-Doctor Confidentiality," he said.

Uhura continued to glare. if there was one thing she knew it was men. And men like Leonard McCoy, they cared about their patients. If Spock was really in trouble, he would tell her. The fact that he wasn't revealing anything was a good thing, a good thing Uhura really _really_ hated at the moment.

She had seen Spock on the bridge, seen how he had gone even stiller than usual, his eyes focused _just_ on the screen. Eyes moved when one read. His had been locked there, as though the world had ceased to exist. Uhura did not know what was going through his mind, only that someone had to get him out of it. She didn't know why she hadn't been the one. Something inexplicable, something terrible had held her fast to the chair, her mind seeming to recite in every language she knew that it was not her place to rouse him, not her place to touch him even if the touch was something as simple as putting a hand on his shoulder. Kirk had gone, social boundaries were something the Captain had just as much trouble with as Spock--simply in the exact opposite way. When McCoy had called him down she had been concerned but she waited to follow him. By the time she got there he was already gone.

"Its alright," Uhura said with a flick of her ponytail, "I know everything I need too."

"How the hell--" McCoy gaped, wondering if women were somehow an evolved species that hadn't been properly categorized yet.

"Its going to be a few hours until we get to where we need to be," she said, "Starfleet wants us to pursue at a distance and wait for them to engage. Where's COmmander Spock? I need to confirm he knows this."

"If he's got any sense he's in his quarters," the Doctor said. Uhura raised an eyebrow, "what? Its _logical_."

Spinning on her heel she walked off. McCoy shook his head. He knew the computer system would make sure Spock got the message. He only hoped the half Vulcan had taken the pills by the time Uhura arrived. If he was more cynical he would tell her she had made the right decision flying solo, or whichever of them broke it off. Love lead to heartache and pain and doing stupid _stupid_ things like joining Starfleet when your bitch of an ex-wife put on her puppy eyes and got everything you ever made in the divorce. McCoy turned and began to organize surgical tools with a vengeance.

Down the hallway Uhura stood outside Spock's doors, half afraid to go inside. Raising a fist she knocked on the door, wincing at the loud sound. Uhura was not a woman prone to fear, especially not when it came to men. But she was afraid to face him alone. It had only been hours since they parted ways and the wound was still fresh. But he needed--she wasn't sure what he needed, only that if she could give it to him she would do everything she could to do so. Nothing greeted her when she knock, no response. Even out of politeness he would have opened the door. Uhura knocked harder, her brow furrowing.

"Spock?" she called, though she doubted that he could hear her. She turned and hurried to the nearest computer terminal. Thankfully they were designed to understand multiple languages. She didn't want people to see her flying around like some schoolgirl looking for a boyfriend, "Locate Commander Spock," she ordered in a regional Vulcan dialect.

"Commander Spock is located on the Bridge," the computer chirped back, computerized Vulcan sounding odd.

Uhura glared at the device as though it had offended her. It was logical that he would be in his quarters, especially after receiving some kind of treatment from Doctor McCoy.

Apparently he had picked _today_ to become illogical.

Swearing pain on men, regardless of their breeding, Uhura turned and strode back to the Bridge.

* * *

**And we're off on the adventure! Romance is coming and poor Kirk is stuck in the middle. **

**Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews. You keep reviewing, I'll keep writing!**


	3. Chapter 3

Hiraku Sulu tapped his finger against his lip, looking at the stars that spread out in front of them.

He glanced behind him to confirm the crew were all functioning perfectly, everyone doing their tasks. Everyone looked completely normal. They talked quietly to one another when necessary. He had the ship following the smuggler's one at a safe distance, just out of radar and well out of visibility to the naked eye. Until they received further orders or Kirk demanded they do something stupid and heroic, everything was going just fine.

So why did he feel like throwing himself out the airlock would be more peaceful than where he was?

Tension was thick in the room and they all knew why. Spock was at his station, his eyes moving over the screen as Uhura was at hers. Both sat up strait, though Uhura had her legs crossed, one hand reaching up to make an adjustment to her earpiece. But that was just it. When there were moments like this people talked, or looked around or did something _other_ than work. Though they all knew Spock was half-human, he did the same thing. No-one just sat still and translated unnecessary space nonsense or did routine checks with the precision of a crew before giving clearance. No-one except two people who were doing everything in their power to ignore each other.

Everyone seemed to be aware of it as well. The efficiency of the room had an almost desperate feel to it. Even Chekov was bent over his work, fingers moving instruments to plot courses that were only relevant as they were in the same general galaxy. What really frightened Sulu was the thought of what would happen when the work was done. There was only so much one could work and only a bit more that they could pretend to do before everything was checked, rechecked and finished. He had a feeling the room imploding or everyone mysteriously suffocating would not be that far fetched. Poor McCoy was going to have to come and figure out that they had been killed by a Vulcan's emotional boundaries and a woman's healthy sense of vengeance.

He shuddered.

What a way to go.

"Sulu?"

Sulu almost jumped a mile out of his seat as he whipped around to face Chekov. The Russian looked terrified, like he had hurt the stared at the Russian.

"What is it?" he gasped out staring at him.

"Sorry, I just wanted to inform you of this new course," he said, "it'll allow us to get closer without being seen."

Sulu nodded and looked over. Heads bent over the screen the navigator turned to him.

"It is very unsettling in here," he whispered.

"Tell me about it," Sulu replied, "I don't know why we have to wait for those two to have angry hot sex before we get to work normally again."

"Why do we have to wait?" he asked blankly.

"You're young," Sulu said, "on this crew, you'll learn fast enough."

"Learn what?"

Sulu shook his head and twisted to look over his shoulder. His eyes locked with Kirk. The young Captain widened his eyes, looking like he was seriously considering throwing both Uhura and Spock out the airlock. Sulu glared and jerked his head towards them, a silent plea for him to follow through on the idea, or at the very least least throw them off of the bridge. Kirk gave the barest shake of his head and Sulu rolled his eyes, wishing that Kirk would follow through. Kirk gave the barest of frustrated smiles before Sulu turned to look at the charts that Chekov presented to him.

Behind them Kirk looked at the helmsmen and then out into the starry skies, painfully aware of the potentially volatile situation at his back. Ever since he had learned of another universe, another time where his father was alive, where he and Spock had apparently become friends much sooner--where everything was so wildly different, he had wondered in moments when he found himself at crossroads what the other him would do. Would the other him have told Spock he was being an idiot--with more tact--and figured out a way to solve the problem at hand? Or would he have been just as confused? Kirk had never been one to question himself and he figured that he wasn't doing it now even. No, he was questioning another him. If that made any sort of sense.

"Captain?" he turned to look at Uhura, "new Orders have just come in."

He nodded and signaled for her to play them but she shook her head.

"Sir they are for your ears only."

Kirk stood up and walked over to where she was sitting. Smoothly offered him the seat, standing to the side. Kirk sat down and picked up the other communication earpiece, sliding it into his ear.

"This is Captain Kirk," he said, confirming his identity.

"Captain Kirk," the computerized voice was cool and impersonal as it came through his ear, "the craft you are currently perusing has been confirmed as the ship _Vegas_. The ship shows distinct parts of NCC-1700 class ships, their state leading us to assume that the parts were bought illegally on the black market. It has not been confirmed but it is thought the ship carrying two cargo holds worth of highly valuable Vulcan Artifacts which you are to reclaim. Given the uncertainty it will be necessary to first confirm the artifacts are in fact what we assume. The use of force, however is forbidden. Command Out."

"Computer why is force forbidden?" he demanded.

There was no response.

Kirk pulled the earpiece from his ear and stood up. Uhura sat down in her chair, glancing at him. He turned his head to see Spock looking at him as well. Kirk walked over to the Commander. Orders for his ears only, yeah right. Who did they think they were working with?

"Command's being vague," he said.

"That is rarely a good sign," Spock replied smoothly, "it usually means there are aspects of the mission they wish to remain unknown for as long as possible."

"Well that's stupid," Kirk said.

Spock made no move to disagree. The occasional bouts of secrecy Command seemed to suffer were rarely good for those on the receiving end of such orders. Restriction of force usually meant a civilian presence or that the people were of interest and should be taken in alive. either way it meant serious complications, especially for those who boarded the ship to regain the artifacts. Two cargo holds of a refitted NCC-1700 class ship, that was a large amount. Possibly the most complete collection given that the rest of the survivors had barely enough time to grab their cloths and get on the ships. No matter how terrible these people were if they had managed to take artifacts of value then some good could come out of their deeds.

"You're going to go on the ship," Kirk said, "if we have to make a decision about the most valuable pieces the only one who'll be able to distinguish them is you."

"I assumed I would be going," Spock replied.

"Yeah but I'm also sending another."

"Another person?" a glimmer of confusion shone on Spock's features, "I assure you Captain that I am more than capable of self defense. The most I would require is--"

"Spock they're after Vulcan artifacts," Kirk said, "I've got a feeling they'd have no problem taking a Vulcan to go with them."

at her station Uhura froze, fingers lingering on the dial she was about to turn. Inside she forced her eyes forward, mentally chanting _don't look, don't look, don't you _dare_ look_ but nerves coiled inside her stomach. Kidnapped. Like Pike. It had been bad enough when he had just been _on_ that ship for a few hours. But if he was kidnapped--where was that anger?! She had always suffered from fickle emotions. Her loathing of Kirk even had its moments in between his stupid acts when it seemed to waver and she found him tolerable. She had been so full of self righteous anger. They were competent enough to function independent of one other and mature enough to speak in a professional sense. But she wasn't going to look at him, talk to him casually, she was going to ignore him until the half blooded Vulcan was twisting those infamous ears in fury. Of _course_ Kirk had to find a way to put him in a position that could spell disaster. She should have known.

"Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Yes Captain?!" she spun around, her eyes wide, guilty at being lost in her thoughts.

Both men looked at her like she had grown a second head. There was no sarcasm in her 'Captain' or sass in her movement. Genuine surprise was written all over her features, even though it was only so for a heartbeat before her features smoothed out and she looked at them calmly. None of the other crew seemed to have noticed the slip up, if it could even be called such. If Spock noticed anything he did not say so, his features remaining eerily serene as Uhura waited for orders, looking only at Kirk. Kirk looked at her, reminding himself that they were both recently broken up and locking them in a small space just yet wasn't a good thing.

"We're about to get within range. I need to know what they're speaking," he said.

"Yes, Captain," she said reaching up for the switch. Voices were jumbled for a moment before they cleared and became sharper, clearer. Uhura frowned listening to them before she turned to Kirk, "they're speaking Rigelian," she said.

"Rigelian?" Kirk turned to Spock, "this is a little far for them to be out."

"They have heavy accents," Uhura elaborated, listening to the words, "I doubt they're Rigelians, my guess is they're Quarrans."

"Quarrans?" Kirk looked at her, "that seems unlikely."

"They could just as easily be human," Spock said, "it is highly probable that they have picked and chosen aspects of various cultures on their travels. Including languages."

"Does anyone besides Lieutenant Uhura speak Rigelian?" he asked.

"I am fluent in that dialect," Spock said.

"Of course you are," Kirk muttered, "alright you and Sulu are going to go on the ship along with--"

"Captain, perhaps it would be best if the two of us went first. If we slip in undetected it would prevent further casualties."

"The _possibility _of further casualties," Kirk said giving the Vulcan a much-unwelcome pat on the shoulder, "you don't always have to be such a pessimist."

"I prefer the term realist. It is, after all, logical to think that sending many people on board a vessel for a task that will take far fewer will result in more casualties."

"Pessimist," Kirk called over his shoulder as he walked back to the Captain's chair, "Sulu, can you fence without killing anyone?" he asked.

"Sure," Sulu said turning around, "I can just cut tendons and--"

"Great," Kirk cut him off, not eager to hear the list, "you and Spock are going. Scotty," he spoke into the comm, allowing an open wave to the engineering room, "Scotty?"

"No you give that--give that back! Should've left you on Delta Vega with those protein nibs you little green bastard."

"Scotty!"

"Eh--" suddenly the engineer was at the comm, "sorry Captain, we had a bit of an issue, what can I do for you?"

"Scotty how are you at beaming large quantities of old stuff?"

"Good, I suppose, as long as put them from ground to ground and not, you know, in mid-air."

'Great," Kirk said, "lets go with the ground-to-ground thing."

"Got it Captain."

"Sulu, Spock, get armed and to transport," he said, "Sulu, cut don't kill. Spock, phasers to stun. Good luck you two."

The two men nodded and turned, walking out of the room.

Uhura remained at her chair though everything in her wanted to run after the man. WHether she wanted to throw herself in his arms or beat the tar out of him, she was not sure Just that she wanted to be close enough to feel _him_. Perhaps it was pride that kept her sitting there, listening to the halting, accented Regalian. Kirk had said she had a talented tongue and it was true, accents had never given her much issue. The same was true for him. It didn't matter the language, all dialects fell from his tongue with the same cool tone he used in English. But it was only in English that she truly understood him, that she heard the notes of frustration he seemed to reserve for Kirk or McCoy, that she heard the barest soft tone that he seemed to reserve for her.

And now he was going into a situation potentially more volatile than the one he had gone into with the Romulans. He was going and she had just _accepted_ the fact he no longer wanted to be with her. She knew why. She knew that the thought of loosing someone else, of feeling that was probably unbearable to the Vulcan. Vulcans felt far more acutely than humans did, it had almost destroyed their race countless times before they learned to control their emotions with logic. she knew it made sense to think that if they stayed away from one another, if he made it clear that he did not care for her and she allowed him to believe the same then everything would be alright.

But it wouldn't be.

No if he went and he--Uhura stopped and stood up quickly. Kirk was walking out of the bridge as well to go and speak to the two of them. She immediately raced after him, trying not to look too desperate to speak with the half Vulcan before they went off to face doom.

"Captain why aren't you trying to negotiate with the smugglers?" she asked, "surely they'd give up a few treasures rather than face the Federation's wrath?" Kirk stopped and looked at her, "unless--"

"Unless its not just treasures," Kirk finished.

"Spock--" the two took off running for the transporter room.

Sulu and Spock stood on the pads, gold light beginning to spiral up their bodies.

"Abort the transport!" Kirk shouted.

"Huh? What--" Scotty looked at him like he grew a second head.

"Uhura get Sulu!" Kirk ordered.

He bolted past the engineer, racing for the half Vulcan. Before the light could completely block him the young Captain tackled the Commander to the ground. Uhura managed to knock Sulu far enough away that the gold light flared but ultimately did not transport them. However there was a dull, horrible echo that followed the action and the glass window separating the controls from the transporting pads shattered. A moment later Scotty appeared, his pale skin red with anger.

"Are you out of your bloody minds?! Get Dr. McCoy up here _now_!" Scotty shouted into the communicator.

Interrupting a transporting was a very _very_ foolish thing. They had managed to do it before it completely engulfed the subjects but a glance down had Kirk confirming Spock was, indeed unconscious. He saw Scotty shouting but his voice seemed to come from a long way away. He reached up and touched his ear, drawing away fingertips wet with blood. He looked over to see an unconscious Sulu and an equally dazed looking Uhura. A moment later the room seemed to be full of people, doctor-like people. McCoy's face came into his view but he seemed to be sliding in and out of focus.

"Damn it, someone tell Command that we're not going anywhere for 48 hours, at least," he said glancing over his shoulder. Scotty nodded and walked off, "Jim you're an idiot," he said.

"Had to do it," Kirk gasped out, finding it very hard to speak, "they weren't after artifacts."

"Later Jim, you need to rest," McCoy said. Kirk grabbed his arm, "what is it."

"They're after Vulcans," Kirk got out, "they might have shit, but its bait. Bait for Vulcans. They want Spock."

McCoy stared at Kirk, shocked to his very bones. The young man was serious. For a moment he was surprised that he had figured something like that out, then he wondered why he was surprised at all. A glance over at the chocolate skinned Lieutenant had him equally sure that they were probably onto something, something Command hadn't fully confirmed. there was a hell of a difference between transporting stolen goods and transporting members of an endangered species. There was no way Command would allow for something like that, especially not when the wound was so new. But they had to have known Kirk would have sent Spock on that ship. Maybe the thought the capture of a high ranking officer who happened to be half Vulcan would give them reason for war? As if they did not have reason enough.

"I think--" he looked back at the Captain, "IthinkI'mgonnapassoutnow," Kirk mumbled in one breath before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

"I need another gurney in here!" McCoy hollered. There was another thump and he looked to see Lieutenant Uhura passed out as well, "better make that two. Anyone else want to pass out?" no-one said a word, "great then lets get these four to the medical bay."

* * *

**Don't worry people, the romance is coming. Spock's gonna get a crash course in female behavior soon. You know, while there's a galactic crisis going on.**

**I profoundly apologize if there's a technical mistake you Star Trek-fans find. I am not a Trekkie, I just enjoyed the movie and have access to wikipedia.**

**Oh and have a total movie-star crush on Kirk. Uhura and Spock were adorable together but Kirk? Yeah, he can come with me. **

**Oh and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

_"Spock its time for bed."_

_The eyes that raised from behind the book were as human as her own. Amanda Greyson smiled and stood, walking over to where her young son sat. Spock set down the book and fixed his mother with a stare that was almost desperately Vulcan. His fingers tightened on the spine of the book, the only show of his desperation to stay up just a bit longer. Amanda glanced at the title of the book. Something scientific, no doubt. But Spock read them with the same determination and adoration that most children read fairy tales. _

_"Yes, mother," he said finally, his voice cool as he carefully marked the place and stood, exiting the room. Amanda watched him go before she turned to the book and picked it up, a smile on her lips._

_Spock walked into his sleeping chambers to find his mother there. He walked over to bed and climbed in, sitting strait and facing her._

_"What story do you wish to tell me tonight?" he asked._

_"I thought you could tell me one," she replied, a smile on her lips._

_"I-I do not understand," Spock looked at her, plainly confused. Amanda opened the science book and pointed at a complex diagram, right on the page he hadn't been able to finish, "what's that?"_

_"That is a star map of the Virgo system," Spock said, turning his head so he could see the words, "it was discovered by the explorer.."_

_Spock continued to speak, finishing the chapter and then some before his eyes got heavy with sleep. Amanda tucked him in, carefully marking the place on the book so he wouldn't loose his place. Bending down she pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking to the door._

_"Goodnight mother," he said softly._

_"Goodnight Spock," she said, affection heavy in her voice._

A slight furrowing of oddly shaped eyebrows was the only indication of a struggle as Spock cast of unconsciousness and returned to the world of the living. Spock opened his eyes to the pristine ceiling of the medical bay. Curtains had been put up around his bed for privacy but he could hear the voices on the other side.

"Stop it! I'm Captain now! You don't have to shoot me up with every vaccine you've got!"

"I already did that back on base," came the reply, "now hold still so I can make sure your ears hear properly. You're shouting."

"I'm what?!"

"You're shouting loud enough to wake everyone up," McCoy told him, "even though they're all probably as deaf as you."

"I saw you inject him with something!"

Spock cringed as the holler assaulted his ears. He reached up and touched his neck, feeling nothing but smooth skin. If the doctor had injected him with something recently he should have felt, at the very least, the puncture marks on his neck. But there were none so either Kirk was more insane than usual.

Or it had been a while.

He eased himself up to see he was not wearing a hospital gown or the uniform he had been in but a pair of scrubs, the kind Dr. McCoy was prone to putting people in when they had to be changed. Unless a medical procedure such as a catheter was required, it allowed more cover and comfort for the patient. Also given that they were on a starship that was prone to being caught in all-hand-on-deck-the-world's-about-to-end-scenarios, adrenaline fueled runs did not turn into peep shows as well. He glanced over to see his uniform folded with precision on the chair, boots just beside it. He had been out for hours, potentially more. Spock remembered being on the transporter pad, feeling the unpleasant sensation of his body converting to energy when Kirk had come into the room shouting something, Uhura hot on his heels. His first though had been to why she was there. His second had been why Kirk was running for him.

Then the Captain had tackled him. The sonic echo must have created a barotrauma, potentially causing sever trauma to the ear. McCoy should have been able to heal that in all of them, he was not concerned. But he _had_ been knocked unconscious and there was a chance McCoy had helped to further that state by injecting him with a sedative. Spock turned to get off the bed and swung his legs around, pushing himself up only to ungracefully grab the bed as his legs buckled. The shouting stopped as footfalls came towards him. Furiously, if his actions could be described as such, he maneuvered himself onto the bed and sat just as the curtain opened.

"You seem to have disabled my legs," Spock said cooly, "I trust there will be no lasting ill effects?"

"Good to see you too," McCoy said sarcastically, "and yeah. I knew you'd be up and running in no time. So I did something to make sure you followed my _medical expertise _and got some rest."

"Hey Spock!" came the joyous shout. Spock looked over at the grinning Captain and back to the medical officer.

"And your expertise did not see fit to fix that?" he asked.

"Good point," McCoy walked over, "hold still," he said jamming a silver instrument into Kirk's neck. The Captain hit the paper wrapped bed like a ton of bricks, "he'll be up in a couple hours, give his ears time to heal. Scotty took the liberty of making sure Command knew about the incident," Spock waited cooly, "Kirk's pretty sure those scumbags were using artifacts as bait. That they were after Vulcans--after you," McCoy told him, his voice lowered.

"How did the Captain reach such a conclusion?" Spock asked.

"Don't ask me, one moment he was in the bridge and the next I got the call from Scotty who said he and Lieutenant Uhura came running into the transporter room and tackled you and Sulu from the pads."

McCoy watched as a thousand emotions seemed to flick across Spock's eyes, so quickly he could have just as well imagined it. Only he knew he didn't. The Commander was concerned about the Lieutenant. For a moment he considered holding off, making the Vulcan _ask_ about her and show some genuine caring but then he remembered Uhura was unconscious and she should probably be around for such a thing. Her and, in the most vengeful corners of his mind, Kirk.

"She's fine," he said, "Sulu was a bit further along in his transport so they're still unconscious but should be up relatively soon," he said, "besides, you got other things to worry about," Spock looked at him, obviously not comprehending, "the people who want to kidnap you?"

"Clearly they have failed in their ploy and as you have disabled my legs, only an unauthorized entry onto the Enterprise would allow them to complete their task. The likelihood of the circumstances necessary for that to occur are very slim."

"So you're not worried about that?"

"No," came the reply, "it is logical to think that rarities must be preserved. Further more it is in human nature to covet," he looked at McCoy, "Vulcans, like most things that there are few of, have become prized."

"Prized?" McCoy repeated, "prized? You're not some god damn artifact--you're a human being!"

"Half human, Dr. McCoy and all objects, conscious or not, have value. It is merely a question of how much and to whom."

McCoy was pretty sure he was going to snap the stylus he held if the pointy eared half blood kept talking about himself like that. The doctor turned to the unconscious Captain before turning to the others. That was about as far as he got before the doors opened with a hiss.

"Yeah I understand that I need the bandages but I'm an _engineer_, I can't work like this--Doctor!" McCoy froze at the Scottish accent before turning to face him. Thankfully his scaly green companion was nowhere to be seen. The little alien seemed to have a need to touch everything, "would you get these bloody bandages off? Its a bit hard to be an engineer when my hands are frozen."

"Sure, come here," McCoy said motioning him forward.

"Excuse me Doctor but I fail to see the logic in releasing him from his handicap and keeping me in mine," Spock said cooly.

"You wanna talk logic you green bloodied idiot? _Logically_ all four of you should be dead. You should stay disable--ah ah ah stop it! _Why_ does that hurt so bloody much?!"

"Maybe because you've got a badly sprained finger," McCoy snarled, "bandages stay on."

"But--"

"Get your little green assistant to do it," McCoy said.

"You'd think he listens to me but you'd actually be wrong. Little bugger doesn't listen to anyone, least of all me!"

"Unless you want me to start cutting the fingers off because they're too mangled to stay on your hand, the bandages stay on."

Scotty paled at the prospect an somewhere deep inside Spock felt triumph that he was not the only one stuck in such a wretched position. He glanced over to see Kirk, his features strange in that they were still. Especially his mouth and eyes, both of which seemed to be excessively expressive. His eyes swept around the room. Two more beds were occupied and half-hidden, by shadows rather than curtains. Both had figures laying on their back, though while Spock could see the position being natural for one he knew that Nyota was hardly a still sleeper. Not through personal experience but rather through an overheard conversation between her room mate and another. Apparently Nyota Uhura did, what her room mate had called 'sleep gymnastics', though Spock was sure it was an exaggeration. Still he could not imagine her sitting still, not even in sleep.

Nothing but an artificial mockery of the state.

He had not wanted hurt to get hurt and that was exactly what had happened. He had been relieved to get out of the room, relieved enough not to consider the possibility of a trap. He should have realized the likelihood of such a thing. Early plans to move the Vulcans to the colony and then the colony itself had involved a staggering amount of security. He supposed it was another matter of human nature. Humans knew that the Vulcans could protect themselves, but they were still desperate to help. No matter how assured someone was of another's ability, it was illogical, but predictable, to think that one could do a better job of protecting that person. Egotistical thinking but it was how most of society functioned. She had thought that she could protect him and she had gotten hurt. Hurt because he had desired nothing more than to leave the room and put her out of his troubled thoughts.

And Kirk--

Spock looked over at the unconscious young man. He had become accustom to being prejudged, either because of his heritage or reputation. It was a simple thing and, much like the Vulcans, most people who disliked him did it with a healthy dose of politeness. In fact, since his schooling as a young boy he was not sure he had met anyone who was so blatantly disrespectful and rude. He knew from the moment their eyes had met at the Academy that James T. Kirk hated him. In fact, if not for his 'other self' then Spock was certain the young man would hate him still. What had transpired on the planet he marooned him on, Spock did not know. But whatever it was it had changed Kirk's opinion about him--one of the hims anyway. Perhaps it was the inability to distinguish between the Spock that could have been and himself but he knew that Kirk did not regard him with such loathing anymore. Despite his best intentions he knew it was becoming harder and harder to hate the man as well.

He did not think he was special by Kirk's actions in the transporter room. It could have been Scotty or McCoy or Chekov and he still would have run and tackled them, ignoring all the risks associated with the action--risks that he was more than aware of. He would have done everything to keep them safe. What troubled Spock was that he knew he would do the same thing. Perhaps the rest of them would as well but he knew without a doubt that he and Kirk would do anything to keep the rest of them safe. Probably the other former cadets who had been fortunate enough to escape death that first day would as well. They were becoming closer as a crew, close enough that anyone's death would hurt. He was beginning to think that no matter how far he pushed people away, their deaths would still hurt, just as profoundly as if he kept them close. Logic told him that the sheer number of deaths that occurred so recently was an anomaly. Entire graduating classes, numbering easily over a thousand and six billion souls were not lost on a daily basis or there would hardly be a universe left. But his illogical side, his _human_ side, it told him that all it would take would be one death to be his undoing.

"Alright the others are unconscious, time for you to be too," Spock turned to look at McCoy who was holding a silver instrument.

"I trust when that wears off I'll be able to use my legs," Spock said cooly.

"Yeah yeah, we'll see," McCoy said pressing the instrument to his neck. Spock felt the barest twinge before the world dissolved.

As it turned out, the first of them awake this time was neither Spock nor Kirk but Uhura.

The young woman opened her eyes, surprised to find herself laying on her back. Usually when she woke her limbs were splayed out everywhere, like she was running some crazy space race. Carefully she pushed herself up, pressing a hand to her forehead as it throbbed. She remembered what happened but her ears felt fine. That meant she had been asleep--or unconscious really--for a significant amount of time. Significant enough that McCoy was able to send her ears well on their way to healing. Mentally blessing drugs and modern medicine, Uhura swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The hospital was lit though her bed was in shadows. From the absence of Dr. McCoy she judged that it was the time when some people slept. One of the virtues of being in space was that they were not governed by the sun. Day and night were obscure terms, everything was governed in hours and need. If it was the right time and you were not needed then you slept. Given their actions Uhura had a feeling that McCoy needed some serious sleep.

She glanced over to see Kirk's big feet dangling off the bed. Raising an eyebrow she walked over to see him splayed out as if he had just landed there, or been doped and hauled up. His features looked _odd_, more in the fact that they were serene rather than expressive. Shaking her head she turned and looked at the curtained bed. Glancing to make sure the other medical staff were occupied, Uhura pushed one of the curtains aside. Dressed in scrubs, like the rest of them were, Spock looked so strange laying there. It was a different kind of strange than Kirk. His features were usually so serene that seeing them with the serenity of sleep should not have been odd. But it was. Uhura had only seen the half Vulcan in a vulnerable state a handful of times.

First when they had been studying an ancient text for class. She had stayed late and he had offered his assistance when she had called the pieces of parchment very horrible things. Heads bent he could smell her perfume and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her hand. She had wanted nothing more than to kiss him but she had been unsure of his feelings, unsure until their eyes locked when they figured out a word. She had been exuberant and he had seemed mildly pleased. Joyously she had hugged him. She knew no matter how long she lived she'd never know how their lips wound up pressed together. The kiss was almost _chaste_, quick as well. Or it would have been if she hadn't cupped his face and pulled him back down to make the next kiss anything but.

Another was that horrible day in the academy when a male classmate had been flirting with her. Though she had tried to make it clear she had no desire to have anything to do with him, he had been persistent. Unfortunately he happened to be smart and he knew that Spock couldn't just throw him out for no reason. Though she had been frustrated beyond belief, it had been a thousand times worse for Spock who could do nothing about it. Even she could see how hard it was for him to keep his voice cool and his emotions controlled when all he wanted to do was jump the podium and use his 'death grip' on their throat.

The worst though was when he lost his home world and his mother. When he had sat in that chair and given the log for the day, labeling himself a member of an endangered species her own heart had ached for him. The way he seemed to struggle to swallow and then gotten from that chair as if it had electrocuted him--Uhura couldn't help but follow him. When he buried his face in her shoulder she knew it was the closest she had come to seeing genuine emotion in his actions, if not his face. She knew back on Vulcan it would have been considered shameful, even Sarek's features had been serene when the destruction occurred. She knew why, she had taken the history classes required for the cadets. The Vulcans were affected so deeply by their emotions that it was a wonder their race had survived as long as it had--until they started quelling their emotions and using logic as a defense.

Was it logical to push people away? She supposed it was in a way that was rather, well, rather illogical. After all, it would make sense that if someone pushed people away, shut down their heart, then if others got hurt it would not hurt as much. But she knew that was a joke, a lie. The fact was that it hurt to loose people, but what hurt more was if they thought you didn't care when you lost them. She had known going into their fledgling relationship that Spock's emotional development was seriously stunted, or at least his ability to express emotions was stunted. But she had never though that he would react to the loss of all those people, of his mother in such a way. Of course she knew that it hadn't fully reached him, after all once Vulcan had been destroyed they had warped through the universe seeking Nero. He told her he needed everyone to perform admirably and that was exactly what happened, exactly what _needed_ to happen. At the time. Afterwards--even if she had not experienced grief like his she knew there was no sense in it. Not for anyone.

"I told you I doped him. He isn't going to wake up for a bit--I'm the Chief Medical Officer, its _my _call. If Command has a problem with it you tell them I'm over riding it. If this mission is so damn important they can send another ship--one without a Vulcan on it."

Uhura slipped behind the curtain, knowing she would not make it to her bed in time. Moments later the outlines of Dr. McCoy and Chekov came alongside the screen.

"I was to relay orders," came the heavily accented voice, a note of fear in it, "I can relay those back but Command won't like it."

"You think I give a damn what Command likes? Command almost sent two men to certain death!" Uhura's brow furrowed. She knew Spock and Sulu would have been in trouble if they got on that ship but 'certain death'? That seemed a bit excessive, "Command clearly knew that the _Vegas_ crew was after Spock."

"Why would anyone want him?" came the confused voice, "Dr. McCoy?"

"Hold on," the doctor said. There was a hiss of injection, "wake up Jim."

"Five more minuets mom," came the mumble.

"Though you've got me acting like one, I'm pretty sure yours is back in Iowa," McCoy said.

"Huh?" she heard Kirk mumbled and lift his head up, "what'd you do to my head?"

"You did that all on your own. Give that a minuet, Command wants a word."

"Oh I'll give them a word," she heard the unmistakable anger in his voice as he shoved himself up, "I'll give them the whole fucking alphabet," he snarled as she heard him change before storming out of the room.

She heard the others take off after him, already certain that the last thing Command wanted to hear was James Tiberius Kirk come up with a swear word for every letter of the alphabet, something she was positive he could do. Uhura turned back to the unconscious Vulcan and felt her heart ache.

_The crew was after Spock_

She felt her fist tighten.

They weren't going to get him.

* * *

**And the plot thickens! Can Kirk come up with a swear word for every letter of the alphabet? Will Uhura keep Spock out of harm--will he _let_ her keep him out of harm? **

**All that and more next chapter!**

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	5. Chapter 5

Kirk stared at the communications hub for a full minuet, stunned into silence.

"Captain Kirk," the computerized voice came again, "do you copy?"

"Y-yes," he said quickly, "Command could you repeat that?"

"We have been exercising radio silence since you got within range of _Vegas_," the reply came, "no orders have been given to the starship Enterprise and none that were for your ears only. You were to continue to peruse the _Vegas_ without direct contact. That remains your mission. Your orders are to follow _Vegas_ to the hideout, do not engage."

"Understood Command, continuing pursuit and radio silence. Will contact when approach has been made. Enterprise out."

"Command out."

Kirk leaned back in the chair, silent for a minuet as the stars zipped by.

"So that means--" Chekov began.

"They impersonated Command," Kirk said, "well enough so that there were no red flags from the computer," he looked at the sky, "bring up visual on the _Vegas. _I want to see what these bastards are flying."

"Yes, Captain."

The image on the screen was pristine, as if the ship was right in front of them. It was a refitted Starfleet ship, probably with a bit of tinkering they would be able to impersonate Command--or scramble the signal enough so that they could get through. Uhura must have been right in that they were human or, at the very least, that some of them were ex-Starfleet. Kirk surveyed the ship, anger churning through him. He wanted nothing more than to aim everything and blow them to hell but he knew Command was probably already questioning him and disregarding orders on a matter such as this wasn't the best idea. Especially not if these assholes had civilians on that ship.

It was almost funny to think that not too long ago he would have thrown Spock at them.

"Chekov add impersonating Starfleet Command to the list of crimes," he said, "oh and also add the illegal use of a Starfleet Vessel."

"Yes Captain," came the reply.

"Remain in pursuit," he said getting up and walking off the bridge.

Hadn't been a really _really_ short time ago when he had wanted nothing more than to throw Spock out the airlock? Well, to be fair they had been in the academy so rather he wanted to beat the Vulcan til his pointy ears bled.

He knew that he'd do it for any member of the crew but for some reason the fact they were doing it _Spock_, to someone who had lost more than any of them could even fathom, that pissed him off even more than if it had been him or Uhura or anyone else. It just didn't seem fair that they'd come after him so soon after what had happened. Kirk knew Spock was being his unemotional self when he pushed Uhura away. If he hadn't had supreme confidence in the woman's ability to get what she wanted he probably would've tried harder to make sure everything was fine and dandy. Frankly he was just surprised Uhura hadn't found a way to drive him crazy.

Kirk wasn't really sure why he didn't mind the idea of her with him anymore. He had liked her the same way he liked most women, because she was smokin hot and rather brilliant. Of course the knowledge that the only physical contact she wanted with him involved her foot and his groin, he had decided there were far more women in the universe. Also there was the added bonus of Spock's emotional turmoil. He was sure no matter how good friends he became with the half Vulcan, watching him in emotional turmoil would be one of the most entertaining things in the entire universe.

Arriving at the medical bay he stepped inside the pristine white room and walked over to the curtains that partitioned off Spock's bed.

"Jim--Jim! He's still unconscious. I finally got him to sleep!" McCoy cried lunging over at the Captain, "I'm not letting you wake him up. In fact you should be in bed too."

"Sorry, universe to save and all," he looked at the curtains and then at the other two, "how are they?"

"Uhura woke up but Sulu's still out."

"Is that normal?" he asked.

"Normal? He was further along in his beaming. You interrupted a sensitive procedure! Of course its not normal. _Normal_ would've been letting the damn thing finish."

"And let the smugglers get them?" he gave a carefree grin, "it'd be kinda boring up here then."

"Jim something tells me you don't know what that word means," McCoy said.

"I'm not sure I want too," Jim replied easily.

"So what'd Command say about almost killing two men?"

"Command didn't know," Kirk said.

"Jim please tell me you didn't curse them out before finding that out," McCoy said.

"They beat me to it," he said, "they didn't know. These smugglers, they over rode every security code, everything! They're ship is a refitted Starfleet Vessel."

McCoy was a bit surprised to see such anger on the young Captain's face. He knew it was their first mission with him as a Captain and while he had faith that in James T. Kirk's hands they would come through to the other side, he knew that such an attack was a difficult one. It screamed incompetence, foolishness, a mistake that they should have known. It was, as Spock would probably say when the green blooded bastard woke up, a failure. No matter what the cool voice on the end of the line had said it wasn't in the nature of the Starfleet Command to risk their people and certainly not one like Spock. Stupid pointy eared idiot probably would have done it anyway--he did almost do it anyway. McCoy spared a moment for wondering why he cared before reminding himself that as a doctor, he had too.

Yeah, that was it.

No way the green blooded hobgoblin was becoming endearing with his stupid words about logic and reason.

"So what does Command want."

"We're supposed to remain in pursuit and find out where they're going. They haven't changed course, even if they know we're here."

"So what are you going to do?" McCoy asked.

"Me? I'm going to wait for my First Officer to wake up and ask him," Kirk said, "saves me the trouble of explaining twice. For now we're going to stay in pursuit until they engage us."

"Alright," McCoy said. Kirk raised an eyebrow, "what? Am I supposed to tell you this is a fucking stupid idea and you're probably going to get us all in a large amount of trouble? Even I know you'll probably prove me wrong and, if you don't, we'll be dead anyway."

"Good point. I'm going to get some rest. Wake me when he's up."

It seemed like moments, heartbeats if that before McCoy's voice was on the communicator stating that Spock was up. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes Kirk grabbed the nearest cloths and threw them on before heading out of his rooms towards the medical bay. He walked past the curtains to see Spock sitting up, a PADD balanced carefully on his lap. Strange blue contraptions were locked around his feet, slowly inflating and deflating like strange medical balloons. As soon as Kirk came around, Spock raised his eyes to the young Captain's before turning back to the PADD, his fingers making no move for the stylus.

"Nice moon boots," Kirk said.

"They are pressurized to aide in the regaining of blood flow to my lower extremities," Spock replied, "as they have no affect on gravitation, they are hardly 'moon boots' unless you are referring to the moons of--"

"They're fashion shoes," Kirk cut him off, "back on earth. Ugly things but people wear 'em anyway. You should understand that."

"I fail to see how ugly earth fashion should compute with me."

Kirk considered telling him what the students at the academy had said about Spock's haircut, after-hours wardrobe and general sense of style. It was probably a good thing that the Starfleet required uniforms, though Kirk knew not everyone made it as fashionable as he did. Definitely not people like the illustrious stick-up-the-ass Commander Spock. Even now Kirk was willing to bet his last pair of boots that Spock's wardrobe was uniforms, uniforms and probably something uniform-like. Trying not to laugh he looked at the PADD and saw reports from the bridge.

"So you heard about the security breech?"

"I have been informed. It was extremely fortunate yourself and Lieutenant Uhura were able to prevent the capture of Lieutenant Sulu and myself."

This time Kirk's newfound sense of maturity failed him.

"Yeah it was lucky Nyota and I were there."

Spock was still far too Vulcan to express his infuriation at hearing her first name so naturally on Kirk's lips. Logic told him that the Captain was doing it to elicit an emotional reaction, much like he had on the bridge during Spock's brief turn in Command, like the bullies had back in school. Much like in those scenarios logic had an explanation, logic told him what to do and exactly what made sense. His heart on the other hand told him to beat James T. Kirk within an inch of his life, until the very thought of saying the word 'Nyota' would make him wince in agony. He settled on looking at the Captain and moving his thumb, just enough so Kirk would know he was considering rendering him unconscious.

Of course it had no effect, save to make the young Captain grin a fraction wider.

"So you know about the security breech then. Good news is Command doesn't want to sacrifice you--not that I'd let them do it--but still, that's gotta feel good huh?"

"I would prefer to answer that question when my feet have woken up," Spock said.

"You're so delicate," Kirk teased.

"Hardly. Dr. McCoy simply has a rather strange sense of humor and practicality," Spock replied.

"Yeah," Kirk agreed, "I still have a scar on my neck, its like a map, makes for easy injections now."

A glimmer of amusement shone in Spock's eyes before he focused on the PADD once more. Kirk felt a dull surprise, he didn't think he had seen amusement in the Commander's eyes before. He looked just a bit less scary at the moment, though Kirk had a feeling that e could turn the fear back on in a moment's notice. Kirk rolled his eyes as he looked at the half Vulcan doing work on the PADD. God, at this rate the Enterprise would never suffer any sort of malfunction without a hearty advanced notice.

"So do you do _anything_ fun or is it all work?" Kirk blurted out, "Vulcan's don't know how to party, do they?"

"The last time the Vulcan race, as you put it, 'partied' we almost destroyed one another," Spock replied cooly, "it is logical to remain in control of oneself at all times."

"Enter the cure to logic," Kirk said.

"Excuse me?" came the icy demand.

Spock's head flew up as Uhura stepped around the curtain. She was dressed in the same scrubs he was, though he was certain she looked far better in them. Her hair was still in its high ponytail though her earrings were absent from her lobes. Her dark eyes glinted, the barest remnants of eyeliner clinging to her lids. Kirk leaned back with a grin as Spock looked at her calmly, his features betraying nothing of the turmoil inside. She looked at Kirk.

"What did Command say?" she questioned.

"Does _everyone _know?! The gossip on this ship is unbelievable--I feel like I'm back in the Academy!" the Captain cried.

"In such close quarters it is logical to think that information would be spread quickly," Spock told them, "much like the dormitories at the Academy."

"Well?" Uhura demanded.

"The Smugglers hacked our signal," Kirk said, "their ship's a refitted Starfleet vessel and they've clearly got ex-Starfleet members on board who are smart enough to imitate the signal well enough to fool or sensors. Either that or they're smart enough to hack our signal."

"So the smugglers gave those orders," she repeated.

"Yep," Kirk said, "Command has been exercising radio silence. Something they want us to continue to do. And we're to remain in pursuit even though they clearly know we're here."

"Perhaps," Spock's voice drew them to him, "there is a chance they simply recognized the Starfleet, not necessarily which ship. Lieutenant Sulu altered our course to get us closer but stay out of visual range."

"He's right," Uhura said, "Starfleet operates on a general frequency. They might not know its us. Did they hail you as the Enterprise?"

"No," he said, "but they knew who _I_ was."

"Maybe you had sex with one of them?" Uhura suggested bitingly.

"its entirely possible," Kirk said with a smile.

"Well did you tell Command they're after Spock and request reassignment?" she demanded.

From Kirk's expression it was clear he had not. Despite the anger on Uhura's face, Spock felt relief course through him. If those smugglers were after him then there was a very high chance they had _something_ Vulcan, be it artifacts or people themselves. Either way they needed help, help that perhaps they would accept more willingly from one of their own. Especially if they were being held captive by humans. Spock looked at Kirk who looked back at him, clearly waiting for him to speak.

Spock was sure that no matter how long he lived, no matter how many people he met he would never meet someone like James T. Kirk again. People could never read him--even Uhura sometimes seemed not to understand his emotions. But not Kirk. Whether it was some innate ability or something learned, Spock couldn't understand how he seemed to know _exactly_ what he was keeping off his face. It was incredibly frustrating, to be read like a book by someone who he was pretty sure, up until very recently, was illiterate. Bracing himself for the barrage of swear words that was about to come their way, most of which Kirk would not understand, Spock opened his mouth.

"We should remain in pursuit," he said.

It was only the knowledge of her rank that kept her lips silent.

"Even though they clearly want you?"

"Given the destruction of Vulcan and the number of those who survived, it is highly likely that this will not be the last ship that would like to acquire me," he said.

"You're popular now Spock," Kirk said with a grin, 'and you didn't have to sleep with anyone."

"I was unaware that worked outside of school," Spock replied. He paused and then continued, "there is also the likelihood of civilian prisoners onboard."

"See that crossed my mind," Kirk said, looking very pleased with himself, "right so we're remaining in pursuit. But they better understand you're my First Officer so, ah, if you get yourself captured we'll just come rescue you."

"I would expect nothing less," Spock replied as Kirk exited. He raised his eyes to Uhura's, "speak your mind, Lieutenant," he said, his voice softening fractionally.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she cried.

The sound of another speaking Vulcan sent an odd twist of emotion through him. He didn't know why, it was rare he heard the language on the planet Earth except the harsh syllables his students struggled to form. Not her though. She still had only the barest accent and it was only distinguishable to him because he knew to listen for it. They had spent hours conversing in Vulcan, both for the privacy it offered and because it was an exceptionally beautiful language. He supposed it made sense that she would speak it to him, he was after all, half Vulcan. But he had not heard it from her since the destruction of his home world. If any sort of surprise showed on his face she didn't see it or she didn't care because she put her hands on her hips and glared, obviously waiting for an explanation.

"No," he replied, "it is logical to think that I am best suited to a mission involving the last of my species."

Uhura gaped at him, unable to think properly past the anger and worry that churned in her stomach. It was _logical_? The horrible thing was that it was. How could something that made sense make absolutely none at the same time? If there were prisoners he could find them, they would trust him more quickly, if there were artifacts he could identify them---but she wanted nothing more than to go to the controls and turned the ship around. Selfishly she wanted him to embrace his _human_ side. Weren't they enough for the half Vulcan? Why did it always have to be about his father's people, about the side of him he almost lost? She knew why, they all knew why, but it didn't make it any easier to think about him charging into a situation where they _knew_ these scumbags were after him.

Why did he have to be so fucking noble?

"Well _sir_," she spat viciously, knowing it was low to address him as such considering their history. But he was asking for it, "your logic is flawed."

Spock stared at her as she spun on her heel and walked out of the curtained off portion of the medical bay. His logic was _flawed_? Indignation hit him. There was a small chance she was right but it was impossibly small. Hearts, emotions, bodies--those were flawed things. But logic? Logic was not flawed. Everything he had said was logical and true. But she had said it was flawed. She was too smart to not understand his thought process, she knew him too well not to comprehend what he was doing. She seemed to comprehend it just fine--yet she was still incredibly furious at him. Still there was no reason to say his logic was _flawed_, that was just insulting. And she had called him sir, viciously enough to remind him of the time he saw her arguing with a teacher who had been foolish enough to question her abilities.

"Alright lets see how your feet are getting on," McCoy said coming around the curtain. Spock looked up from the PADD he had been staring at and turned to the doctor. McCoy took one look at his face and sighed, shaking his head, "if its any consolation, if you'd stayed with her she'd still be just as much of a pain," he said, his voice low enough so no-one else could hear.

Spock glared ahead wondering how everyone could suddenly read him like he was an open book.

He wasn't sure he liked it.

* * *

**I'm sorry if there's confusion but I promise it's gonna be cleared up soon. Sure hope the orders this time were from Command huh? (I'm sure they were :p)**

**Thank you all so so much for the reviews. You make me want to update even though I feel sick right now. I'm being multi-vaccinated for a trip i'm going on so I'm not exactly at my sharpest.**

**But hopefully I'll be able to finish this before I leave for the trip. Not sure though. **

**Don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Captain!"

At the call of his title Kirk winced. Or perhaps it was not his title but the voice that called him. He turned around to see Uhura running towards him, boots slapping the ground. Her eyes were bright with emotion and long before the words left her lips Kirk knew what she was going to say. Still he waited for her to catch up with him. Before he could walk she glanced behind her to make sure they were alone before grabbing him and yanking him into the nearest room. Ignoring the lights and letting the stars from the window illuminate them she faced the Captain.

"Not that I'm objecting," Kirk said with a grin, "but won't your not-quite-boyfriend be pissed off--"

"Shut up," she said jamming a finger into his chest, "are you out of you _mind_?! You're just going to keep with the mission when you know they're after _him_?!"

"Yeah," Kirk said. Her eyes seemed to heat up, "look you know as well as I do that those people probably have other Vulcans. You _really_ think Spock's gonna just go back and leave them? Are you kidding me? He's going after them whether we want him to or not so I'd rather we were there to protect his ass then he go off on his own and we have to come rescue him."

Uhura stared at the Captain, hating how much sense he was making. She wanted him to say no. She wanted him to say they were going home and _chain_ Spock to a chair to make sure the Vulcan didn't go anywhere. But no, no he had to be noble and stupid--they both did. It was unbelievable. She knew Spock was but Kirk was too. What happened to the idiot who grabbed her breasts in that bar? Why did this have to happen _now_? Now that Spock wasn't thinking clearly. What if it wasn't enough, what if he went to save them and he--he---

Uhura tore her stinging eyes away, turning her face from Kirk.

She couldn't let him see her cry.

Unexpectedly a hand gripped her shoulder, the gesture almost _comforting_.

"We'll be fine," Kirk said, his voice leaving no room for argument before he stepped away to give her some privacy, "besides," he said. She turned her head, "he's our Vulcan, we saw him first."

Uhura gave a fractional smile as Kirk walked out of the room. Wrapping her arms around her middle she walked over to the window. She had spent hours as a child laying under the stars, dreaming of the day when she could go up there. It was funny, now, to think of that little girl who had been so sure the stars were the most peaceful place in the world. She should have known they were anything but. Her hand was steady as she laid it against the cool glass, pushing the tears back a bit further. Galia knew about the stars. Stars and men, though she was considerably more brilliant about the former. Uhura swallowed the tightness in her throat. They knew that it could happen--that it would happen. That their friends, lovers, they could all die instantly. One moment they could be there, excited about their new lives, smiling as their friends went off to demand a reassignment and the next--the next they would just be gone.

Kirk knew loss, she knew loss too but could anyone know it like Spock? A few hundred students, a father, a mother--a grandmother--a handful of lives as opposed to six billion gone because of something that hadn't happened. She knew the Romulans were terribly ashamed of what had occurred. She had listened to the newscasts and the words on the wire. They had been horrified at the genocide of the Vulcans, condemning all who would do such a thing. Offers of help for the Vulcan colony had poured in from the people of the Romulan empire. But was it enough? Only time would tell. She knew that Spock didn't want to loose anyone else, she understood that. But what she didn't think _he_ understood was that no matter how far he pushed the world away it would still hurt when people died.

It always hurt.

"Lieutenant Uhura?" the computerized voice called her name. Uhura twisted around her hand swiping at her cheeks immediately, "report to the bridge. I repeat, lieutenant Uhura report to the bridge."

Taking a deep breath Uhura walked out of the room towards the bridge. The rest of them were already there, Kirk in his Captain chair, Sulu at the console--Spock wasn't there though. . She took her place at hers and looked out at the window over her shoulder. Space was still spread out everywhere.

"Captain, the _Vegas_ appears to be making arrangements to put down on a Class M planet," Chekov told him.

"Does that planet have a name?" he asked.

"Leola," Chekov replied, "its a Class M planet known to be very rich in Leola roots, Kaylos and several other distinct flora families."

"Are there any native species?" Kirk asked.

"Negative Captain," the navigator replied, "there have been encounters with Romulans and humans."

"Is Command still exercising silence?" Kirk asked.

Uhura glanced at her monitor before nodding.

"Yes, Captain," she said.

"Remain in pursuit," he said, "Command is aware of our position. Until we get other orders we continue pursuit. They land, we land," he shrugged, "and we continue to follow them."

They all nodded and went back to their respective jobs. Kirk leaned back in his chair and looked around at the people gathered there working at their stations. he was beginning to be more and more assured of the fact that the worst part of the mission wasn't the mission itself but the anticipation before the action got under way. He looked at the console by his hand. The chair he was sitting in, it was supposed to take eight years or a miracle to get to it. Naturally he had opted for the latter. But he was beginning to think that the location he was in was his least favorite. At least the infirmary had Bones to yell at him. It was kind of funny to hear his constant 'I'm a Doctor not a...,'. Kirk looked at the planet and then at the doors as they opened with a hiss to permit his First Officer.

Usually a more fluid person, the effects of McCoy's medication were still present in the way Spock walked as if someone had bound his knees. Frustration was almost naked on his face as he made his way over to the station and sat down moments before a buzz was heard as the communicators connected with those in the Medical Wing.

"Is he up there?!" McCoy's voice came, obviously less than thrilled.

"You mean my First Officer?" Kirk asked, "yeah he's up here, he's kinda important to this mission."

"Important--you tell that pointy eared son of a--you tell him that he was supposed to _wait_ for the medication to wear off!"

"I am perfectly capable of hearing you, Doctor McCoy," Spock said, his voice slightly strained, "however as First Officer my presence is required on the bridge and a wheelchair would have been illogical in such a situation."

"Illoic--illogical--" McCoy sputtered, obviously livid with the blatant ignorance of his orders, "fine! Ignore my medical expertise--but you'd better be damn sure I'm not replacing your knees when they give out!"

"Thank you Bones," Kirk said quickly before more insults could be hurled, "anything we can do up here to make sure he doesn't need his knees replaced?"

"Yeah. Drag him back _here_!"

If he was embarrassed at the reprimanding to his disobedience Spock didn't show it as his fingers moved over the console. Kirk knew that Spock could be in agony and he wouldn't so much as bat an eyelash. His eyes moved to his First Officer's knees, wondering if he could see pain. Maybe he should drag him back. Sulu did know fencing after all. As long as they stayed out of range of that 'death grip' it wasn't impossible to think they could do it.

"I assure you, Captain, that Dr. McCoy was merely exaggerating my condition. I am more than capable of performing stationary duties and, if necessary, mobile ones," Spock said turning around in his chair to emphasize the point.

"Exaggerating?!" McCoy cried furiously, "That's it! Scotty!"

That was all the warning they got before Spock's body materialized into energy and he vanished. Kirk pressed his face into the palm of his hand. Spock might not have been necessary to something as simple as a briefing but the _last_ thing he needed was a suicidal/homicidal half Vulcan declaring war on his CMO. He knew that the doctor and the First Officer didn't exactly get along--and that he was partially at fault--but still now they were roping in other people in their war. He didn't want to have to make his crew choose sides. Though maybe if he got them all to do some kind of harmless game in the hollo-room they could settle it without bloodshed.

Or death grips.

Or those silver syringes.

"I'm spending more time off the bridge than on it," he said.

"Something tells me that's not bothering you much, Captain," Sulu said.

Kirk grinned and shook his head as he walked out to the Medical Bay where, sure enough, Spock was sitting cooly on a bed, though his eyes seemed to be furious as they focused on McCoy's back. From the series of silver syringes Kirk had a feeling McCoy wasted no time in making sure the only way the half-Vulcan was getting to the bridge again was to claw his way back there. Kirk walked over to McCoy and clapped his shoulder. The Doctor jumped fractionally before turning and glaring at the Captain.

"Thought we weren't supposed to beam inside the ship," Kirk said.

"I thought we were supposed to defer to medical expertise," McCoy shot back.

"No beaming inside the ship," Kirk said finally, "and you, what happened to 'not picking sides'?" he demanded looking over at Scotty only to find the scotsman unconscious on a data bed. He turned to Spock, "no death grips either!"

"My apologies Captain, it was a reaction to a perceived attack," Spock said, "perhaps if Dr. McCoy had seen to inform me of the injection my hand would have landed correctly."

"He means on me," McCoy said.

"Yeah, I got that," Kirk replied before dropping his voice, "was that really necessary?"

"Oh I'm sorry Jim, next time we ship off for a mission I'll be sure to have a complete set of replacement knee joints on board," McCoy said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "are there any other stunts your First Officer'd like to pull? Because if so I'll be sure to have the medical parts to fix them on board," he continued,"because, you know, I'm a mechanic now apparently and not a doctor."

"Point taken," Kirk said before he turned to Spock, "you no death grips," he said pointing at the half Vulcan, "and you, no unannounced syringes," he said turning to McCoy, "and when Scotty gets up, no beaming inside the ship," he looked at them, "now someone get my First Officer a wheelchair so we can get back to work."

"Here Captain," a nurse said, one pretty enough for Kirk to flash her a grin that had the woman turning a rather impressive shade of pink.

"Thanks," he said walking over to Spock, "chariot of champions, get in."

Spock's look plainly said that he wanted nothing more than to beat the ever-loving shit out of both of them--probably McCoy a bit more--but he was silent as he got into the wheelchair. McCoy looked far too pleased as Kirk wheeled the First Officer out of the medical bay and back to the bridge.

"Give it half an hour!" McCoy called after them.

"Dr. McCoy has only seen fit to numb my legs," Spock told him plainly, "I am more than capable of wheeling myself, Captain."

"He's just trying to make sure you don't hurt yourself further," Kirk said.

"I fail to see how this is an effective way of ensuring that," Spock said cooly, "it would make far more sense for me to retain control of all of my limbs," Spock frowned slightly, as if this was somehow not new to him.

It was not.

Logic said that proper care for wounds did not involve those strange band-aides his mother had always carried around, nor that each contusion should be treated with one and a kiss. In fact, for certain ones additional pressure was actually contrary to the orders of the Vulcan physician. Spock remembered with startling clarity one injury when he was a child, a wrist that was broken fractionally. The doctor had cast the limb and advised a few days rest before a more efficient bandage could be applied due to Spock's age. His mother had come into his room with a packet of brightly colored markers and drawn the most wonderfully colored things on his cast, things he had tried to copy with limited success. He couldn't feel the slight pressure thanks to the cast and the medication but somehow watching the white of the plaster turn to bright colors had made him feel better.

But he was not a child now, he reminded himself sternly and this was not his mother this was a crazy doctor who probably would've been glad to see him go off to the colony.

They arrived at the bridge without another word until they got inside.

Then there were a variety of reactions.

"Oh my _God_ what happened?!" Uhura cried looking at the wheelchair bound Spock and then at Kirk, completely forgetting about her anger at the half-Vulcan.

Sulu seemed to be doubled over the console, his shoulders shaking with mirth though he clearly had tried to contain it. Chekov seemed to be devouring his lips in an effort not to burst out laughing. Despite himself Spock felt heat in his cheeks and could only pray they were not too green.

"Alright, Bones has decided that given the crew he's working on he'd rather use his medical skills on something other than replacing Spock's knees. Twenty minuets and he'll be fine. Spock's taken one for the team and proven that in all future interactions Bones's orders should override everyone elses."

"W-where's Scotty?" Sulu asked, his voice quaking with laughter.

"Scotty's taking a Vulcan nap," Kirk answered seamlessly causing new fits of laughter to erupt before Chekov managed to form words.

"S-so Captain," he said, voice stilted with laughter, "should we obey Dr. McCoy or Commander Spock then?"

"Yes, Captain, because unconscious or immobile is kinda hard to choose between."

"You know what? Lets just obey me. How about that?" Kirk demanded.

"Oh brother," Uhura muttered in Vulcan.

"It is normal," Spock said in Vulca as well. Uhura looked over at him, "the best Captains usually get a period of time to adjust with their crews," he looked at her, "we will be alright."

Uhura nodded.

"I know," she murmured softly.

"Captain we're coming up on Leola," Sulu said.

They all turned to see the dark star ridden sky with a new addition. In the center was a planet. They could see the land masses of the planet, though it seemed to have less surface water than on earth. Most of it was green though, heavy with vegetation. Whatever lived on the planet was concealed in the greenery. Suddenly the _Vegas_ was in front of them, blocking their route to the planet. Kirk opened his mouth to get everyone to the battle stations but the ship made no move to fight them. Instead Sulu spoke up.

"Sir they're hailing us."

"Put it up," Kirk said nodding to the window.

With quick technology the connection occurred and they were faced with the sight of a similar bridge. Naturally there were modifications. Only a handful of people were in it, though the bright open space remained the same. The technology was difficult to see from the camera angle but the people were easy to make out. Their backs were turned but all were dressed eccentrically. Uhura could easily pick out three or four distinct cultural trademarks in their dress. From the geometric cut of Vulcan robes to the loose, bright shimmery pants of Kakai to heavy wooden bangles that looked as though they could be African these people were definitely smugglers. Their eyes finally went to the man sitting in the Captain's chair.

It became clear that even if the people were facing them their identities would have been hidden. Black cloth covered his features, the space that would have been left free for his eyes was hidden by a pair of reflective goggles. Like the rest of them he too was dressed in a variety of cultures, a patchwork testament to the places he had been and people he had stolen from. At least they _thought_ he was a he, it was a bit difficult to tell though the folds of his distinctly Haketan pants were for men. He leaned forward.

"Good afternoon, Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise."

Uhura immediately focused on his accent. Though his voice was distinctly masculine, the accent was not thick, nor was it particularly cumbersome. Certain alien species had a distinct accent due to their difficulty at pronouncing human dialects thanks to physiological differences. But not this man. No his accent sounded smooth and natural, as though English was simply not his first language. This man was either human or a species that was close enough physiologically that their species could reproduce without ill effects.

"Thats me," Kirk said, his smile somehow both malicious and pleasant, "who are you?"

"You may call me Akash," he said.

Uhura frowned, she knew that word. It mean Sky in Sanskrit. Either this man's parents knew he was going to be in the sky or he was giving them a false name. She had a feeling it was the latter.

"Not Captain?" Kirk asked.

"Forgive my rudeness, if you feel the need you may address me as such," he said, "now, if you would kindly follow me to planetside, we may do so without minimal damage to your pretty new ship."

"Lead on," Kirk said.

Akash inclined his head before the connection was terminated.

"Alright Sulu, follow him," he said.

Sulu nodded and obeyed. Uhura bit her lip but kept her tongue silent, praying that Kirk had some kind of a plan. Their orders might have been to remain in pursuit but the fact was that they no longer were.

Now they were captured.

* * *

**Wow! Lets hope that Kirk's got a plan huh? I'm sure he does. Next chapter when we meet the smuggler(s) I'll have a blurb at the top to tell you who the actor/actresses their appearances are based off of are. Just so you can get a visual.**

**Also thank you all for your Trekkie-wisdom and corrections on my lack of knowledge. Its really helpful and i'm so glad you enjoy the story despite me not knowing there's no hospital its a medical bay.**

**There's gonna be more Bones, Spock+Kirk friendship and romance too. Also Scotty, Sulu and Chekov. I think Bones is getting a bit of a soft spot for Spock, making sure he keeps his knees and all. Though he'd be damned if he told him.**

**Alright updates are coming!**

**But please!  
**

**Don't forget to review!**


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